The Challenge – Chap. 7

Warning: This chapter is very dark. Slightly lemony at end; edited to stay within FFnet's content guidelines. Comments, as always, are greatly appreciated.

(Originally posted 20 Dec 2010.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime opened her eyes. She was in Aizen's bedroom, and once again the familiar mix of exhilaration and despair swept through her. She was attracted to a kidnapper and murderer. Dealing with Aizen left her confused. His words, his voice trapped her brain and her good sense in a net of confusion and tangled emotions. She felt as though she was walking in quicksand, where solid ground disappeared under her steps.

Aware that she had awakened, the man lying beside her stirred as well. Aizen rolled over in bed to face Orihime. He felt a surge of pride, the joy of possession of this beautiful woman beside him. Observing the mixed emotions in her face, he began to kiss her, slowly, wanting to change her face until all it expressed was desire for him.

"Come now," he murmured in her ear, "am I really that bad?" He gave her a teasing smile and she blushed. "You're thinking again…" He kissed her neck and downward, "that I'm an evil man…" He kissed her breasts, his hands stroking down her sides. Her arms encircled his body, and he laughed deep in his throat. "But maybe… that just makes me more… interesting…"

He kissed her on the mouth, his tongue lingering inside as his hands wandered down her belly and along the inside of her thighs. He disengaged from the kiss and drew back, looking into her eyes from only inches away. "Is it so wrong," he whispered, "to love a man who loves you back?" He felt her tense beneath him, and he slowly let his reiatsu soak into her, relaxing her muscles and clouding her mind. He took her mouth again in his and was delighted to feel her respond.

XxXxXxX

Aizen stood in the shower, relaxing in the flow of warm water. He smiled to himself, pleased with how well everything was going, with how enjoyable Inoue Orihime was turning out to be as a bed partner. After the ease of the initial seduction, he had been surprised to find that it was more difficult than he expected to completely turn her feelings in the direction he wanted. Her dedication to Kurosaki Ichigo was stronger than he had expected; he had thought it was merely a schoolgirl crush. However, her physical passion for Aizen more than made up for it. He closed his eyes under the stream of water and smiled with satisfaction. He had not expected that she would be so wanton and delightful in bed. She felt so much pleasure at his touch that it almost stirred him. And she showed every bit of feeling on her expressive face. It was enchanting.

In fact, her responsiveness had led him to reconsider his initial plans for molding her spirit. He had decided to experiment instead with using sexual pleasure as a lever to move her in the direction he desired. The primal, extreme gratification she received from sex, and its novelty for her, meant that it had the potential to be a powerful lever on her soul.

Admittedly, Aizen had to acknowledge, he was indulging himself as well. It had been a long time since he had let himself get so carried away with mere physical pleasure. Frankly, none of his recent flings had been as satisfactory. There had been few during his long sojourn in Soul Society, due to the requirement to maintain his image. When he did allow himself to be tempted into a liaison, there always had to be an endgame planned in advance. Either the individual had to be made loyal, bound to him securely by some means, or be disposed of by means of an accident or manipulation into a suicidal mission. Eventually most of them were sacrificed in fights with hollows, which had become truly dull for Aizen as he was unable to watch their demise in person.

Indeed, Aizen recognized that if he had a weakness, it was that he derived utter and perhaps excessive pleasure from watching the expressions on his victims' faces as they realized he had betrayed them. His… he had to call it a compulsion… to explain everything to them, to watch the horror on their faces as he gloated, might be his undoing someday. Nevertheless, one of his few indulgences in Soul Society during the long decades of pretense, one of the primary means of maintaining his iron self-control during the moments when he had to smile politely or subserviently to stupid fools whose power and intelligence were an insignificant fraction of his, was the knowledge that eventually he would have them at his mercy, and they would lie at his feet, like that bastard Hirako, utterly in his power and fully aware of the horror of what was happening to them.

After all those years of having to bow to that incompetent fool of a captain, to finally have the man on the ground at his feet, terrified and confused… the rush of pleasure he had felt that night had been one of the most intense of his life. He had originally planned to run Hirako through with his sword to complete the effect; however, Urahara's untimely arrival had turned into an unexpected bonus; how much more enjoyable it had ended up to leave Hirako alive, so that for a hundred years he would live on in the knowledge that Aizen had bested him, had humiliated and defeated him. And how fitting that he had at the same time been able to revenge himself upon Urahara by framing the man for his own crimes. After one hundred years, he still savored the raw pleasure of that one night. It had truly been one of his most successful machinations.

Other experiments… had not been so successful. But he usually managed to turn them at a minimum into something to amuse himself. How delightful it had been to run Hinamori through. After all the effort he had poured into her, for her to fail him at the end… so disappointing. But the look of shock and dismay on her trusting face after he had pierced her with Kyouka Suigetsu almost made up for it… almost. If only she were still alive, so that he could betray her again, and watch her horrified face one more time… if only that could happen, then he would feel that she had returned to him some modicum of payment for all his time and effort.

So it was with all his sexual interests. Once they began to bore him, he began to set up a plan to eliminate them. He already had plans in place for Loly and Tia Harribel. He usually preferred if he could arrange it so that they were face to face, so that he could fully appreciate the agony on their faces as they realized the depth of his betrayal. They had received the gift of pleasure from his body, and in return he would take his own kind of pleasure from them.

It was fortunate for him that Orihime was so entertaining, since he intended to make use of her after this interlude rather than merely disposing of her. How tedious these weeks would have been if she were boring. But now he could let himself simply enjoy her beautiful body, and take further pleasure in the knowledge that he would then leave her alive to act as his agent, send her out as a ticking time bomb to do his will, all the while making the fools in Soul Society believe that he was done with her.

And meanwhile… he could not recall a partner who had been so responsive to his touch. Everywhere he touched her seemed to light her entire body on fire, even without any of his devious tricks with his reiatsu. And then… there was her innocent creativity in bed, and her wholehearted desire to please him. That was another characteristic that he had never before encountered. She was more selfless than anyone he had known in his long life. Most people, he had found, were selfish in the end, having some ulterior motive, some desire that he would bend to his will, force them to yield to his dominance. Yes, they were drawn to his beauty and power, but they always wanted something from him: status, influence, pleasure… even only his attention. But Orihime… had accepted his explanations and even his lies. She actually wanted him to be happy, even though she still didn't fully trust or love him. It was amazing.

He stretched languidly under the water. It didn't matter that it was taking longer than he expected to bind her to him emotionally; the process itself was so pleasurable that he could wait. Patience, after all, was one of his strong suits.

Of course, there was the potential complication of her friends coming to rescue her. So far, his forces had been successful in delaying the powerful young man and his human and shinigami friends. But none of them had managed to destroy or capture them yet. It was… intriguing that his own creations were being defeated one after another. Kurosaki was looking more and more interesting.

There, he supposed, he should take action. His eyes narrowed as he considered the next approach to take.

XxXxXxX

He had dinner served to Orihime in the small dining room again that evening. Seated beside her on the loveseat, he pressed his body against hers and delighted in her warmth and barely perceptible quivering. He trailed his fingers over the heavy, rich silk of the white dress he had given her and smiled.

He drew the silver soup tureen toward his plate and ladled some of the creamy soup into Orihime's bowl. "This, my dear, is one of my favorites. Poached oysters in saffron cream soup."

He filled a spoon with the rich concoction. Holding it to her lips, he said, "And what a lovely coincidence; the color is reminiscent of your hair."

Orihime looked at the soup, which indeed had a marked orange tone. She opened her mouth obediently and Aizen slid the spoon in between her lips. She swallowed. It was delicious, and she let Aizen feed her the rest of the bowl spoonful by spoonful.

"What gives it the orange color?" she asked.

"Saffron," Aizen replied. "The most expensive spice in the world of the living; harvested by hand from the stigma of the saffron crocus, one flower at a time." He smiled. "More expensive by weight than gold."

"Oh." A flush of guilt washed over Orihime's face.

"Why should a goddess have to worry about the price of what she eats?" He placed a finger on Orihime's chin and turned her head towards his. "You didn't ask about the oysters."

Orihime's face creased in puzzlement, and he laid a gentle kiss on the wrinkle on her forehead.

"Oysters," he whispered, "are an aphrodisiac." He drew her head towards hers and felt the heat of her blush as he began gently kissing the rim of her ear, running his fingers over her throat as he did so. Her chest heaved, and he felt his own arousal stirring to match hers.

After a moment, however, Orihime pulled away. "I'm sorry; I'm really thirsty. Can I have a glass of water? I think that soup was a little salty."

Aizen drew two tall, fluted glasses filled with a fizzy, reddish liquid toward them. "Here. Something special for tonight."

"What's this?" She picked up a glass.

Aizen smiled at her, lifting his own glass and clinking it to hers. "Strawberry champagne punch. Don't worry," he added at her slight frown, "it's mostly ginger ale. Quite safe for you to drink."

He raised his glass. "To the goddess of the three worlds."

Orihime blushed again. It seemed that strawberries were often on the menu in Hueco Mundo. But she was very thirsty, so she put the glass to her lips without comment. It was surprisingly good and very sweet and refreshing. Before she knew it, she had finished the entire glass, and Aizen was pouring her another from a beautiful blown-glass decanter.

The rest of the dinner was delicious as always, and afterwards, Orihime gave a small sigh of contentment. She was feeling pleasantly fuzzy and warm, and somehow her spirits had been lightened after so many days of worry.

Aizen stood and offered her his arm. "Shall we sit in front of the fire for a while, my dear?"

Orihime smiled up at him, unaccountably happy, and gave him her hand. He sat down on the wide couch in front of the fire, and drew her down onto his lap. She giggled suddenly, and he stroked her hair, holding her in his arms. He brought his lips to hers and she wriggled on his lap, causing him to chuckle and hold her more tightly.

He kissed her deeply, his tongue probing into her mouth; then he kissed the line of her jaw up to the base of her ear. Delicately, he extended his tongue to lick very gently along the very edge of her ear; as she gasped, he licked around the inside of the shell of her ear and wove his fingers deep into her hair.

She giggled again. "That tickles!" she exclaimed, as his tongue explored her ear.

He paused to draw back with a mock offended expression on his face. "Oh, should I stop?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. The movement made her dizzy. "No…" His face returned to hers, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her ear again.

With his other hand he reached up to unbutton her white silk dress. The buttons were in front, and easy to undo with one hand. The bra she had been given also opened in the front, so he made short work of it as well, and soon she could feel the heat of the flames on the skin of her bare breasts. He bent his head to begin kissing her on the delicate skin there as well, licking her nipples until her breath caught. She bent her head and buried her nose in his warm, thick head of brown hair with its faintly woodsy scent. He was so beautiful she could hardly believe it… and he made her feel so wonderful…

He lifted her and laid her down full-length on the couch, then slowly drew off her dress, kissing along her body as he did so, his hands slipping between her legs to stroke leisurely down the insides of her thighs. The warmth of the fire felt so good on her bare skin. She arched and exhaled loudly. The couch was draped in silk, and just rubbing her body over the smoothness of the fabric was so pleasurable, as he stroked her with his long, beautiful fingers and kissed her again. She gasped and clung to him.

He paused for a moment to stretch languidly, his eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure.

She murmured, "Don't stop."

He chuckled as she sat up, looked around, and pouted. "Hey. How come I don't have any clothes on, but you've got everything on." She was a little confused about how that had happened. Her memory seemed fuzzy for some reason.

He smiled and stood up. "That is easily remedied." Shortly he had divested himself of his white robe and stood naked before her.

She paused to admire his sculpted body, the long muscular limbs, and his bush of soft, thick brown hair. "Ah," she said, her tongue feeling thick. "Yer— You're beautiful."

He gently lowered himself onto her body, lying full-length on top of her. She felt his weight, pressing her against the silk of the couch, and sighed at the feeling of security it gave her, pinned against the cushions beneath her. His skin was warm against hers.

"As are you," he whispered into her ear.

She twined her fingers around him, stroking him until his breath hitched. He stroked her as well, his expert fingers dancing in a pattern that made her feel helpless with desire. She moaned, and he laughed.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked.

"Yes…" she groaned in frustration. "Yes, I'm ready now."

He smirked, and lifted his body onto hers. She let out a long, soft cry and clutched him. He began moving with slow, deliberate strokes as she cried out again with desire.

"More…" she murmured. As he chuckled again and changed his position slightly, a chime sounded in the room. It repeated insistently.

"Please excuse me," he said as he drew away, leaving her gasping on the couch.

"Nooo…" she said, frustrated and confused.

He smiled. "Just one moment, my dear. This concerns you too." He moved to the mantel and pressed a button. Immediately a video screen came to life. On it was an image of two individuals locked in ferocious battle. One she did not recognize; he might have been one of the Espada. The other—

She saw a flash of bright orange hair. It was Ichigo Kurosaki, ferociously scowling as he wielded his zanpakutou. She heard the clash of blades, the shouting as though from far away. She gasped, expecting the cold wave of fear and guilt to wash over her. But to her surprise, she realized she felt nothing, as though she were cushioned by the warmth and luxury surrounding her, her emotions sealed away from horror and fear. She only felt the frustration of partially satisfied desire.

Aizen watched her with amusement. "Your friend has come to rescue you, risking his life for you," he murmured, "and here you are indulging yourself in lust and hedonism with his enemy." There was a dark, heavy satisfaction in his eyes. He reached over to stroke her naked skin, slipping his fingers between her legs. She flinched and closed her eyes, moaning. "Now, do you want me to stop?" He brought his lips close to her ear and made a low noise in his throat. His eyes darkened with amusement as her face stiffened and she shook her head.

He smiled an utterly evil smile. "Now that, my dear, is the proper response of a god. Why should it matter to you whether a human lives or dies?" With that, he began slowly moving on top of her, gradually speeding up until her cries and moans of pleasure mingled with the faint sounds of battle from the video, until he felt her body clench beneath him along with his own.

As he lay on her still-shuddering body, he laughed, deep in his throat, and took her lips one more time in a fierce kiss, a kiss of possession and ownership. She did not move, and as he flicked his tongue over her face, licking her closed eyes, he felt the slight salty taste of tears on her lashes, and felt another powerful contraction of desire within him.